[Sodium_noir] Hell is Other People

[Jennie Teakle]

Sinclair Mansion
1-3am

Sandra, Jack, John, Christine


> [Sandra]
> "If you will excuse us, it looks like we are on the hunt for a Miss  
> Mara Ravenclaw." However, she makes it a point to look the stranger  
> directly in the eye and hold the contact for a moment, and nod in  
> acknowledgment. She hoped he got the message that she would like to  
> speak to him at some point.
> [John]
> "Not at all." he replies in Egyptian.  It's strangley accented,  
> different from the sound of his English.  "I'll be around this  
> evening, I'm sure.  Otherwise . . ." He pulls a business card out  
> of his pocket and hands it to Sandra as she goes off with Christine.

> [Sandra]
> "Come on, sweetie," she says to Christine.

> [Jack]
> Still sitting quietly amid alcoholic fumes and
> strange, garbled languages, Jack watches the two women
> retreat to another room, apparently in search of the
> vampire who’d found him earlier that evening, outside
> the Temple and moments from kicking the proverbial
> bucket.  Christine’s mood disturbs him deeply, but he
> also knows he’s of little use to her at present.  Not
> only is he hopelessly unsteady on his feet, but, in
> the midst of his inebriation, Jack’s dimly aware that
> Christine’s ire may be directed at Mara, and he’s not
> crazy enough to want to put himself in the middle of
> that.
>
> “Well...” Jack mumbles to no one in particular.  “Hope
> everything’s okay...”


[Christine]
Christine glances distractedly at Jack.

"You'll still be around, right? I just got this one thing to do. Then  
I'm out of here. Swear to God."

Christine allows herself to be drawn into Sandra's perfumed wake,  
trying not to feel quite so haplessly adolescent beside the self- 
assured Ms. Scoland. It's hard to focus and keep steady on her feet  
at the same time and so Christine is grateful for Sandra's easy  
social grace as she shimmers smiling through the knots of rich types  
that loiter so impeccably. It's like a slow dance through the elegant  
Sinclair mansion, one that Christine follows, head down, glancing  
unsteadily, hoping to catch a glimpse of black satin and diamonds,  
somewhere.

As Sandra pauses, looking around, considering where to search next,  
Christine suddenly blurts,

"Oh, fuck this."

She grabs around in the pocket of the jacket Mitsuko loaned her,  
pulls out a cell phone. She presses button with shaky fingers.

"Wonders of modern technology," Christine mutters as she stands,  
phone to ear, waiting for Mara to pick up.


Tag Sandra & Mara












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